I do admit that I am fickle which is defined as:” changing frequently, especially as regards one’s loyalties, interests, or affection: Web patrons are a notoriously fickle lot, bouncing from one site to another on a whim | the weather is forever fickle.” I admitted my fickleness to Cousin Gail in a telephone conversation this morning.
Me: Sometimes I wonder who I am – is this me?
She: What do you mean?
Me: I am making reservations for my trip to California and I cannot stand to stay in a hotel. One must remember that I lived in a hotel for four months.
She: So what did you do?
Me: I am renting a private home. I cannot bear the thought of a hotel.
Also, for most of my life, I have eschewed television but now that I learned how to operate the DVD I am totally addicted to the mystery series Lewis, which I can get from VPL, conveniently located three blocks from my apartment. I rather have a personal connection with one of the stars, Laurence Fox, Lewis’ partner in crime. He was a guest speaker at one of the theatre lectures I attended while in London. I was so impressed, almost fainted at the time, was wide eyed and adoring, not at all resembling the reserved Brits around me. Fox was so engaging – it almost seems like I am watching a friend on television. The people portrayed, the suspects and their paramours in this program are obsessional in their attachments. That was a side of British men that I unfortunately experienced. I guess it is more wide spread than what I thought. The series is riveting and beautifully filmed. Fox confronts a professor telling the man he had “a morbid horror of talent” – a common trait in UK professors, again unfortunately experienced. Julie Wheelwright being a prime example of this, the head of the creative non fiction programme at London City University. The morbid story can be found by using the search engine of the blog.
But now I am safe in Canada and life has steadfastly improved. I returned from an incredible performance at the Vancouver Symphony last evening to find an envelope announcing that I I got a 3% raise – something called a COLA. Of course this will add to the death benefit, my extra added attraction. As CCC commented: “a silver lining”.
The performance at the symphony (conveniently located within a block of my apartment) was unforgettable – everyone there agreed and the concluding applause went on forever with everyone leaping to their feet.
I strode to the Orpheum Theatre prior to the appointed hour, took the lift and there was Mary, a friend and her husband. We chatted and. of course, I told them of my blog. Then to my seat where I chatted with my neighbors – a man whose daughter was singing in the UBC choir and a man who hailed from the Ukraine. Students arrived, sitting in the row ahead – three short women and a tall man. The man was dead in front of me, the shortest in my row. I laughingly leaned forward and said I was thinking of asking him to change places with his short neighbor. He smilingly obliged and so, of course, I told him about my Instagram moniker and now I have a new follower.
Then the concert began. First the Bernstein Chichester Psalms which contains Psalm 23. For reasons I do not understand and although I am somewhat a declared atheist I have found myself, during this past year, constantly repeating the words of the 23 Psalm. It does give me comfort particularly: “Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies my cup overfloweth with oil. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Then Interval and then Orff’s Carmina Burana – the orchestra, the UBC University Singers, all weaving together in such rhapsody. It begins with despair and revenge, then becomes quite playful but ends in the same despair and revenge. I guess that is life – well mine anyway. Playful is fun and entertaining but the real meat is the revenge. But here is the twist – living well is the best revenge. I intend to do so and my 3% COLA will help.
One of my best lines took place after the concert when I was chatting with the gracious man who switched seats so I could see. There was a Question and Answer session but I needed to use the loo and there was a line – of course.
Me: To pee or not to pee; that is the question.
He: Ha! That is so good!
Me: I know and it just came to me. I think I will blog it.
The picture is of me with hair – one of the treasures that cousin Gail gave me last week. Look at those ringlets. I do look rather sassy but I wasn’t. I was definitely a good little girl but I am definitely making up for it.
